A brief-yet-ongoing journal of all things Carmi. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll reach for your mouse to click back to Google. But you'll be intrigued. And you'll feel compelled to return following your next bowl of oatmeal. With brown sugar. And milk.

3 comments:

I read this at my mom's funeral. I had found it a few years earlier, sent it to her via email, and she'd printed it. A few months before she deteriorated, she found it again and called to tell me she loved it. It was only fitting for me to honor her with it.

A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says, "she is gone."

Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large now as when I last saw her. Her diminished size and total loss from my sight is in me, not in her.

And just at that moment, when someone at my side says "she is gone," there are others who are watching her coming over their horizon and other voices take up a glad shout - "There she comes!"

That is what dying is. A horizon and just the limit of our sight.

I hope this helps you, Carmi - and again, I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend.